Page 9

Chapter 8

Tobias

S he’s so close to me.

If I take one step to the right, my arm will touch hers. Or her shoulder, since I’m a lot taller than she is.

I wonder if her ex is tall. From my research, I know he has brown hair. I have black. He has green eyes, I have blue. He’s completely covered in tattoos, and I don’t have a spot of ink on my body. He’s rough-looking. Muscular, with a thick stubble. He smokes, gets his hands dirty at work, and has pictures online of him at boxing sessions. Honestly, he looks like he could crush someone’s skull. Even though I work out and have a good build, I’m also clean-shaven, need all my clothes to have no creases, and have an addiction to wiping my glasses every hour.

I haven’t been in a fight since I was eighteen, unless I count all the times Justin has pissed me off.

We’re nothing alike. If that’s her taste in men, then I’m screwed.

So I guess I’ll enjoy the view while it lasts.

Her hair is flowing down her back, and I have the urge to wrap the strands around my fingers and bring them to my nose to smell her shampoo. Whenever she answers one of my questions about work, she gives me eye contact, and I feel like it would be completely out of line to tell her she has beautiful blue eyes, that I want to see them roll while I?—

“When did you start working at the hospital?”

I rub the back of my head, unsure how to word it. How do I tell this girlI didn’t study like she did and basically got handed the position?

“A few years,” I say, gulping deeply. “I started part time, and when I grew an interest, I switched to full time.” I shrug and drop my hand, shoving it into my pocket to stop the fidgeting. “How about you? When did you realize you wanted to work in that field?”

I already know. Thanks to my digging, I found Gabriella’s mother on social media, and she shared a “throwback” of Aria and her daughter going to college. She captioned it as her little scientists .

Aria is talking, but I can’t think straight, because we’ve walked right past her hotel. If she realizes, she might cut this short. If I try to distract her from the fact we’ve already reached our destination, this ends, and I’m not ready.

I have all of her attention.

I like having her attention.

She rubs her hands up her arms, and I internally slap my forehead, because she’s cold, and I have a jacket.

I pull it off and hand it to her, and as confusion flashes over her face, I cover her shoulders and watch it drench her body.

“You're cold.”

“So the assistant is a gentleman.”

If that’s what you want to call someone who just met you yet knows more about you than you do and can’t seem to get your face out of his head, fine, yeah, I’m a fucking gentleman.

Every organ in my body stops functioning as she lifts the collar of my jacket to her face and inhales. “What cologne is that?”

Fuck. “Tom Ford.”

“I like it,” she replies with a smile and smells it again. “I might need to keep your jacket forever.”

I fist my hands and push both of them into my pockets, staying silent. If I don’t contain them, I’ll do something stupid, like grabbing her face and kissing her–which is weird, since I hate kissing. It’s messy and useless, and the thought of passing saliva by touching tongues makes me uneasy.

I think I’d kiss her, though.

Part of me wants to know what her spit tastes like. I’d lick her body, suck on her tongue, and then bury my face between her?—

“Gabriella always says I need to loosen up, but I think you might take the crown for that. It was a joke, Tobias.” I gulp as she smiles and nudges me. “And we walked past my hotel like ten minutes ago.”

“You want to walk back?” I ask, stopping, my eyes following her as she keeps going.

She shakes her head. “Nope. I’m going to check out the arcade nearby. Do you want to come?”

Where the fuck are her communication skills? She’s a scientist on the frontline of cutting edge research, yet she couldn’t mention when we left the restaurant that she wanted to go to an arcade?

Regardless of the sudden plan sprung on me and making my skin itch, I nod and follow her as rain starts to pour.

She tries to give me my jacket back, but I decline. My white shirt is basically see-through, and my glasses have droplets all over them, but I refuse to take it from her.

“There!” she calls out, pointing to an arcade with lights flashing outside.

In all honesty, the thought of going in there makes me want to vomit, but the light shining in her eyes has her looking full of life, a massive change from being fully invested in work. I like thisshining side of her as she grabs my wrist and pulls me towards the entrance.

The touch doesn’t burn like it would with someone else. I don’t have the urge to snap her fingers or scrub myself with bleach until my skin turns red.

The noise is the first thing that irks me. Music plays like we’re at some sort of concert, lights dimmed, everything glowing neon. She turns and smiles up at me, her teeth glowing white from the fluorescent lighting.

“It’s so pretty in here.” Her gaze travels around the flashing walls.

“Yeah,” I reply, wanting to leave but enjoying her grabbing my wrist again and leading us towards the basketball machine.

“Don’t tell Gabriella we came here, or she’ll kill me.”

I’d strangle her before she had the chance.

She takes forever throwing basketballs at the hoop, then tries to get me to do it with her, but I shake my head and watch our surroundings. Men are looking at her. Why wouldn’t they? She’s hot, in a little black dress with heels.

They don’t seem to see the jacket she’s wearing that practically drowns her. If that isn’t a claim to keep their eyes off, I don’t know what is.

She goes to the claw machine, fails, then goes to the mini casino and wastes fifty dollars, then ventures to the coin machine and gets change.

“Aren’t you going to play something?”

My right eye twitches at the pinging noise of someone winning something nearby. “No.”

“As my assistant, I demand you have fun.”

I let out a laugh despite hating this place. “I’m not sure that falls under my job description, Doctor.”

“I’ll write it in. Now, play with me.”

“I like this fun side of you,” I say, taking the toy shotgun from her and aiming at the plastic cans lined up on the screen. I hit all of them and pass her back the gun with a smirk. “Your turn.”

My anxiousness of being here lessens with every game she forces me to play, like we’re teenagers on a first date or best friends hanging out.

She talks to me about my allergy to cats and how she needed glasses when she was a kid but miraculously doesn’t anymore. She asks me about my childhood, and I decline to answer. She rolls her eyes at me. She does that a lot. It’s rude and childish, but for some reason, I like it.

“It’s late. I’ll get an Uber back to my hotel. Do you live far?”

“I’ll drive you,” I reply, pulling my Aston Martin keys from my pocket. “I’m parked nearby.”

I’m glad we’re leaving. I’ve been socializing too much, and I feel exhausted. Plus, I don’t feel myself, and I don’t want to be around someone like her when I shut down.

When we reach my car, her mouth falls open at the matte black car unlocking.

“How does an assistant have a car like this?”

I tilt my head. “Are you discriminating on my job?”

“This is a quarter of a million dollar car.”

I shrug. “Maybe I stole it.”

“Did you?” she counters.

“No.”

Her eyes widen as she goes to pull the handle, and the door slides upwards. “No way.”

“I thought you were from a rich family in Scotland? Why does a butterfly door shock you so much?”

Her hand flies to her hip. “My parents are rich, not me. And they drove Rolls Royces, not super sporty cars that look like they belong on a race track.”

Aria drops into the passenger seat and searches for the seatbelt. Two minutes go by before I let out a breath and lean forward, trying not to inhale her scent like a creep while I reach for the seatbelt behind her. She doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, and my gaze lifts to her as I yank the material from being trapped in the door.

“How do you know I’m from a rich family?”

Shit.

I researched you. I paid someone to get information. I stalked your entire presence online, including your ex, your best friend, and her family, and found articles on your family online. I even know your address, the car you drive when you aren’t walking to work, and what classes you took in college.

I gulp. “It was a wild guess.”

She stares at me as I click in her belt and move away, needing to put space between us before I do something stupid, like kidnap her. The thought of taking her back to my apartment and locking her in my room with me sounds like a dream. She’d be scared to start with, but then she might get Stockholm syndrome and fall in love with me.

I blink and turn on the engine, my hands shaking as I grip the steering wheel. What would she do if she knew how badly I was prying into her life?

She bristles as I pull out of the parking space, her fingers digging into the leather seat. The radio isn’t playing and she isn’t talking, and I feel nervous energy filling the car.

Swallowing, I glance at her while at a stop light. “Still wet?”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

“From the rain,” I clarify, noticing the way she’s clenching her thighs as I speed up. “It was raining.”

Her lips move, but it takes her a second to close her mouth and shake her head.

I’ve made it awkward. I asked if she was wet, and she thought I meant something else, and now she thinks I’m a weirdo. Fucking perfect, Tobias. Well done, you fucking idiot.

Silence passes between us again, and then she finally speaks.

“My mother was always strict when it came to their money. I was to earn my way into the world without having any luxury, even though she was born into wealth too. As soon as I was old enough, I went away to study. I got a job and a car that was hardly road legal, and she watched me struggle.”

I keep driving. I keep listening.

“I guess it was a good way to teach me, but even when I was struggling to pay rent and wearing the same sneakers for three years, she never helped me. So no, I wouldn’t say I was rich. Even now, I rent an apartment with my best friend because I can’t afford a place on my own. Which is ridiculous, because I have a mortgage with?—”

She stops, her head moving to the side to stare out of the window. “Never mind.”

“You have a mortgage yet you rent?”

She nods but doesn’t look at me. She’s upset.

I feel the urge to kill that fucking ex of hers. He hurt her. He must have. Did he hit her? Yell at her? Break her heart? Cheat? Lie? Manipulate?

“If it makes you feel any better, I come from a rich family who give me everything, and it’s not as lavish a lifestyle as you think. They hang everything over my head and threaten to cut me off if I ever step out of line like I’m still eighteen.” I let out a derisive laugh. “I have my own income now, but they never let me forget it.”

“People suck.”

I nod and then tilt my head toward the sidewalk of the hotel entrance.

“Gabriella texted and said she was going to Justin’s place,” she tells me, staring at her phone. “He’s okay, right? I don’t need to worry about her?”

“The worst he’ll do is fuck her and move his interest elsewhere.”

For some reason, she doesn’t frown. “Gabriella will likely do the same.”

All of a sudden, I wonder if she has been sleeping with people after breaking up with her ex. How many? Who? Does she like them? Does she still talk to them?

“I felt younger tonight,” she says, slowly taking off her seatbelt. “I’ve been so focused on work for so long, I forgot to enjoy myself. Thank you.”

I hated every second. The only reason I endured the arcade was for her. When she was pouting every time she didn’t win on the crane machine, I wanted to smash it to smithereens and give her every prize.

Aria slips off my jacket and leaves it in the seat as she climbs out of my car. I try not to stare at her ass, but my eyes fail me. One day, I’ll have my tongue buried inside her as she screams my name.

Aria stands by the revolving door and turns to me. “Did we get tricked into a double date?”

I smile and shake my head. “Justin isn’t that good.”

With that, she blushes. Fucking blushes . Because of me. I made her blush.

“So this wasn’t a date.” It wasn’t a question, though I’m not sure she’d like my answer. It wasn’t supposed to be a date. I just wanted to get the fuck away from Justin–her taking me to the arcade then me driving her back here just…happened.

“Of course not,” I reply. “Workplace rules and all that stuff, remember?”

She playfully narrows her eyes then giggles, and the sound hits me right in the goddamn chest like a brick. I wish I recorded that sound to lull me to sleep, since I struggle to get more than two hours each night.

My mind isn’t too kind to me when it’s supposed to be quiet.

“Goodnight, Tobias.”

I lower my head, fingers gripping the steering wheel. “Doctor.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs as she turns around and pushes through the revolving door.

As soon as she vanishes, I blow out a breath and rub the back of my head.

I think I just died and went to heaven.

By the time I get home, I'm already itching to send Aria a message. I have no idea what I'll say, but anything is better than nothing.

I'm sure there's some sort of rule to this. Do I wait a few hours? A day? Act like nothing happened at work tomorrow?

But nothing did happen, at least I don't think.

I had my first date. I don't give a fuck if she tries to say it wasn’t–it was for me.

Pulling out my phone, I check my notifications.

Apart from my mom asking me to call her back and a reminder for my next session with my therapist, there's nothing new. Nothing from her .

My jaw tightens as I grind my teeth, checking her social media and expecting one of her life quotes to pop up.

Nothing.

Her last post was a week ago, sharing a story about a fundraiser for cancer.

I exit her page and open up my emails, asking my contact if he has any new information for me. The last I heard, he found out she’s on the pill that has been prescribed to her for years.

Now, I wait.

I toss my keys on the kitchen counter and start my night time routine. My medicine cabinet is fully stocked, and each pill that keeps me grounded slides down my throat with a cold glass of water.

My phone dings, and I huff when I see who the message is from.

Justin: I know you're into Aria, so I'm telling you as a friend not to bother. She's fresh out of a relationship and doesn't sleep around. Apparently, she keeps running back to the asshole. You want a quick fuck? I can ask Gabriella if she wants an extra dick.

Justin: Or I could watch you both. Whichever you prefer.

Me: Fuck off.

She keeps running back to him . My doctor won't be running back to fucking anyone if I can help it.

I stare at my empty glass, white knuckling the countertop as a message finally comes through from Aria.

Doctor Miller: Hey. So one of the receptionists from our ward saw me getting out of your car and asked me if something was going on. It was fun tonight, but we should keep things strictly work-related so no one gets the wrong impression. I'll speak to Gabriella too.

The glass smashes as I launch it against the wall.